


Questionable Degrees

by Alexfoster451



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-22
Updated: 2010-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexfoster451/pseuds/Alexfoster451
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Pinehearst, Elle sits in her cell and wonders about her former partner Claire Bennet. AU fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questionable Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the “Not About Love” challenge over at [Heroes_Contest](http://community.livejournal.com/heroes_contest/). Thank you for reading.…

Title: Questionable Degrees

Author: Alex Foster

Word Count: 1,237

Rating: NC-17

Summary: After the fall of Pinehearst, Elle sits in her cell and wonders about her former partner Claire Bennet. AU fic.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by NBC. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author’s Notes: Written for the “Not About Love” challenge over at [Heroes_Contest](http://community.livejournal.com/heroes_contest/). Thank you for reading.

…  
…  
F _or the life of me I cannot remember  
What made us think that we were wise and  
We'd never compromise  
For the life of me I cannot believe  
We'd ever die for these sins_

\--The Freshmen by The Verve Pipe  
…  
…

 

  
Everyone down in Level Five does his or her time differently, Cheerleader.

Some people can’t handle it and just claw at the walls until they are out of their minds. Others settle in and come to enjoy the structure of day to day confinement. If you are in this facility somewhere with me, I’m not sure what type of prisoner you’d be—you are already a little out of your mind and can wait out the lifetime of concrete itself so I guess it is a coin flip.

Me? I don’t mind it. It’d be nice to one day see the sun again but I grew up in a place like this and don’t mind it so much. The guards are nice—I’ll have that cute blond one asking for a fingertip spark kiss by the end of the month, just you wait and see.

The thing about prisoners though is after enough time they all start obsessing about a certain question. Usually it is “Was my crime worth it?” or in the case of specials it is “Was the abuse of my ability worth it?” but I don’t bother asking myself that.

I think I know why we turned to Pinehearst.

Oh sure there is the official motto about making the world safer for humans and specials alike, but between you, me, and the security cameras above that wasn’t why we did it.

I think back on our time as agents, as partners, more than I dwell on my solo years with the Company. More fun with a friend I guess, though, we were never really friends.

I don’t mind; after your team went boom out in Costa Verde you didn’t really have much use for people getting close and deep personal skills were never a strong suit of mine. Still, it worked—you and me. We were two of a kind, company girls, that put the fear of God in the special community.

It was good then, before the war, and uncomplicated.

You lived for the hunt back then it seemed and I knew from personal experience you didn’t have to sleep if you didn’t want to. That stupidly wonderful ability of yours. Funny how now I miss the stakeouts and bad coffee and string of hotel rooms.

A time in DC stands out in my mind—before all that crap went down in Atlanta—when we were between assignments and I dragged you to a specials only club. Between the alcohol and the dancing I worked up a pretty good buzz that night.

Even when you were doing your cold hearted bitch routine you could still dance like no one else. All that cheering for the home team, I guess. I remember you and me under the strobes dancing, grinding, lost in the music and sweat. It was like no one else mattered in the world—but if we are being fully honest here we never did care about anyone else in all that time at Pinehearst.

Through the haze I remember the burn of vodka on your tongue when I kissed you outside the club and the way your dyed hair fanned out when I pushed you back on the bed later in my apartment. Your small body soft and willing underneath mine. You didn’t fight or claw then like you sometimes did and arched your back when I kissed your neck.

I’d been wearing the leather harness underneath my clothes all night and knew we’d been dancing too close for you to have not realized it. That thought alone got me wet. You knew all along what I was going to do when we got home and maybe it turned you on a little too.

I kicked my jeans away and pulled your overpriced designer pants down around your ankles and off. And found the night had worked you up quite a bit as well. You looked up at me with heavy eyelids, your limbs spread, and I felt powerful.

In quick order I grabbed the dildo from the bedside table, attached it to the hole in the front of my harness, and braced myself with a hand on either side of your shoulders. We stayed like that for a moment, two company girls against the world, with the tip of the dildo just brushing your fine hairs.

And then with a single thrust of movement I was barely conscious of I was inside, sliding smoothly in all the way up to the warm leather around my hips. You made a sound deep in your throat and bucked once, twice, against me and then we were in a familiar rhythm. Like I said, you were always a good dancer—in my other fantasies I imagine you doing other things for the home team even though I know you were too much of a goodie good in those days.

I kept my feet squared and gave you everything I had. I moved my hands from the bed to your shoulders and held them down even as your hips came up to meet mine. Your body accepted it all and asked for more. I couldn’t even leave a mark on you if I wanted to.

You were never vocal enough for my tastes; sinking into your own world the closer you came. Still, I recognized the hitch in your breath and felt you reach between us to touch your clit. I lost myself in the act I was performing and pounded into you hard and fast, my hair whipping around as I did so.

When you sighed my name as the aftershocks shook you a triumphant serge went through me that was almost orgasmic. There was no one else in Pinehearst you trusted but me, no one else in the entire world that got to see you this way. It was, looking back, the closest I ever came to owning something.

Exhausted but not yet satisfied, I pressed against you, dildo still inside, and you took my weight. One hand coming up to rest against my neck and guide my head to your chest. I knew you would return the favor later, with your fingers and mouth if not with a strap on, but in that moment I was content to stay like that. It was almost a reward all by itself.

Yeah, we did have some good times back then.

I think about it quite a bit now—those times together in DC before Atlanta, before the rebellion and the fall of Pinehearst. I do my time down here in the bowels of the Company and wonder if they caught you too. If you are in a cell on the same block as me.

Really, I don’t think they did. I imagine that you are free out there somewhere. Maybe someday you will even storm the Company and stage a rescue—but I don’t know if you would really do that for me.

That’s where my question comes in. Because sooner or later all prisoners come up with a question that drives them crazy. I have a good guess why we did the things we did. Why we gave ourselves over to Pinehearst so fully. But I need you to tell me because I can’t be sure.

It was probably just a few friendly fucks between partners. Between you and me.

We were just having fun, right?

It wasn’t about love at all.

Right?

Right?

  
 **End**


End file.
